


Satisfied

by stinkerson_bramblepelt



Category: Dragon Ball
Genre: Explicit Sexual Content, Eye Trauma, F/M, Vaginal Sex, Weird Biology, cell's got a slimy prehensile dick
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-12
Updated: 2016-02-12
Packaged: 2018-05-19 20:09:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,497
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5979583
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stinkerson_bramblepelt/pseuds/stinkerson_bramblepelt
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Buu escapes the Hyperbolic Time Chamber and kills everyone on Kami's tower, Eighteen finds herself in hell, and someone most unwelcome is trying to reconnect. (It's Cell, and he wants to bone down.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Satisfied

**Author's Note:**

> god forgive me for misusing Hamilton lyrics in this manner  
> credit to tumblr user junkconnoisseur for the dick design

Hell is rocky, and barren.

            Eighteen isn’t entirely surprised when she’s sent there after Buu destroys the earth. Maybe it was just a clerical error—it’s chaos upstairs with billions of dead Earthlings pouring through—but then again she killed a lot of people and never made amends. That’s not even counting all the mayhem she got up to before Dr. Gero got his hooks into her. Seems that loving someone and being loved in return doesn’t mean too much in the grand balance.

            Not that this turn of events matters much. Obviously Goku is going to defeat Buu and then everything will go back to normal. Her husband’s friends will wish her back to life. They don’t love her, but they do love him, and they’ll do anything to ensure his happiness.

            Until then she just has to wait out her time in hell and try not to start shit.

            Being dead right now is almost a blessing, really. Now she knows she has a lot of work to do if she wants to stay with her husband in the afterlife. And of course she does. Why wouldn’t she? Krillin is good right down to his core, and she loves him. She was surprised when she finally realized it, watching him sleep one night. She didn’t think she had any love left in her. And now they have Marron to look after. Marron, who is so good and so full of light and somehow still her mother’s daughter.

            That’s the one thing that worries her right now: Marron being separated from her in all this madness. Eighteen knows she’s stuck where she is for now. Still, she flies up, up, as high as she can go, until Snake Way is visible through the shifting haze in the yellow sky. No dice. If memory serves, Goku was the only one who ever got back out, and he was never supposed to be down here in the first place.

            “You strike me as a woman who has never been satisfied.”

            Deep down in her gut, she recognizes that voice, even though she never heard it in life. The rich, smug tone sends a shiver up her spine. She turns, and there he is. The monster himself. The one she never thought she’d see again.

            “I’m sure I don’t know what you mean.”

            Cell shrugs.

            “I’m quite sure that you do.”

            Nothing good can possibly come of this interaction. Without another word, Eighteen blasts off as fast as she can go. She doesn’t get very far before Cell appears in front of her. She takes off in another direction. Same deal.

            “I can teleport, remember?”

            He almost looks sheepish, hovering in front of her with two fingers on his forehead.

            “What do you want?”

            “A better question would be, ‘what DON’T I want?’ It’s good to see you again, Eighteen. I’m glad we could finally meet when I’m in my perfect form.”

            Eighteen is silent and stone-faced, her arms crossed over her chest. In the early days of their relationship, this was the expression that would send Krillin fleeing for his life. She raises one eyebrow at Cell and he takes that as a cue to continue.

            “That was my only regret about achieving perfection, you know: that I would never get to look at you again. But now I do.”

            “That’s funny. The only issue I have with being dead right now is that you’re making me look at you.”

            He smirks. For a ghost of a moment, he looks like Seventeen, and she wants to hurt him.

            “I never got a chance to thank you for making all this–” he gestures at his entire body “–possible. Even if it didn’t work out the way it was supposed to, I owe a great deal to you.”

            Eighteen’s face remains blank.

            “Think nothing of it. Can I go now? You’re bothering me.”

            “Aren’t you curious about what you helped make?”

            “No.”

            “Well, you should be.”

            “What do you really want?”

            Cell smiles with all his teeth.

            “I want to share this body with you. It’s almost as much yours as it is mine.”

            Eighteen’s upper lip curls in disgust.

            “What, you gonna force me back inside you?”

            He shakes his head.

            “No, no, quite the contrary. I don’t want you inside me. I want to be inside of you.”

            Eighteen rears back, appalled. Her face contorts in revulsion.

            “You never got a chance to really experience this body. Let me give that to you now.”

            “You’re disgusting.”

            “I prefer ‘straightforward.’ So, what do you say?”

            “I say that you’re disgusting and I’d rather die than have anything to do with you.”

            “That’s not a ‘no.’ And, in case you’ve forgotten, you’re already dead.”

            Her rage begins to show. The air around her shimmers with barely-suppressed energy.

            “You’re completely deranged. After everything you put me through? After what you did to me and my brother? You–you—”

            Her hands are balled into fists. She whirls around and flies away, slowly. Nothing good will come of this.

            “You can partially blame that brother of yours for how I feel.”

            She stops. Turns. Eyes him in horrified confusion.

            “Excuse me?”

            “We get a lot of news from the living world down here. You’d be surprised how much I know. When Krillin wished that bomb out of your body, he thought that you and Seventeen were lovers. Now, why would he think that?”

            She says nothing. The fingers of her left hand are twitching.

            “I know everything your brother knew before I absorbed him. I know how he felt about you. You must have known, too. That’s why he isn’t still hanging around, isn’t it? You couldn’t face him after being so close inside me.”

            “Shut up.”

            “All those cold, lonely nights out on the road before Dr. Gero found you two. I know what he wanted to do to you. Quite the lecherous boy, your brother—”

            “SHUT UP.”

            Eighteen lunges forward and punches him in the face. Her fist collides with his cheek and the _crack_ echoes across the wasteland.

            “You’re a lying sack of shit.”

            He fingers the spot of impact as if she had kissed him instead of punched him.

            “Maybe I _am_ lying. Maybe I’m just dazzled by your beauty and I’ll do anything to get closer. It’s so boring being stuck down here all the time. What do I have to do to make you fuck me before you go back to the living world?”

            He sounds so whiny. She doesn’t even know what to say to him.

            “Come on. Don’t tell me you’re satisfied with your life. Don’t tell me everything is just the way you like it. If that were true, you wouldn’t be in hell.”

            “You don’t know anything about me, or my life, or my brother, and if you have any sense you’ll leave before I lose my temper.”

            “And then what? Hit me again? Please, feel free.”

            She knows it’s a trap. She knows that even in the strange country of hell she stands no chance against him. But she can’t help it. She wants to hurt him so badly.

            He doesn’t fight back. His head whips this way and that as she pummels him, no sound issuing from either of them except for the resonant thumps of her fists against his repulsively handsome face. When she punches him in the throat he chokes out a sputtering cough and a little blob of purple blood dribbles from his mouth. Exultant, she raises one leg and kicks him straight toward the ground. Cell zooms away, propelled entirely by the force of her hatred.

            Just as he vanishes from sight he reappears behind her and wraps his arms all the way around her body, pinning her arms against her. His face is pressed against her cheek. She can feel his blood smearing against her.

            “Let me go.”

            “We were always meant to be together in some capacity. You might not believe it but it’s true. It’s objectively true. We were made for each other.”

            His voice has a dangerous edge to it.

            “The man who made you was a psychopath,” she hisses. “Dr. Gero was a sick old man and he ruined my life.”

            Cell drags his teeth across her cheek and snakes one hand under her shirt. Instead of groping her, he presses his palm against her heartbeat and holds it there. Somehow that’s worse.

            “He gave you a new life. A better life. If it weren’t for him you’d still be out on the streets with your pervert brother and nothing but the clothes on your backs. Loath as I am to admit it, you never would have met your husband if it weren’t for him. He made you part of something extraordinary. And I want to share that with you.”

            She struggles and kicks, landing blows on his knees strong enough to shatter cinderblocks, but he is unyielding.

            “You’ve never been satisfied,” he whispers. “Let me try. Do what you want to me but let me try. It’ll be like a dream.”

            And then he lets her go. Just like that. She turns to face him but doesn’t move away. Maintaining eye contact, he slips one hand against his crotch and pushes back the shiny protective covering. Out pops a blue prehensile phallus. It’s slimy and dripping clear mucus, as wet and dexterous as a tongue.

            Against all logic, Eighteen feels a stirring in her gut that’s only partially disgust. It isn’t lust, per se, but a faint sense of opportunity. It gives her an idea.

            She’s not sure which one of them moves first but then he’s right up against her, not touching her, and still she doesn’t pull away. His hot breath ghosts over her forehead.

            “I don’t want to look at you,” she says.

            Before he physically turns her around she sees him smile and it makes the bile rise in her throat. Quicker than a blink she’s floating flush with his chest and both his hands are under her shirt, stroking and exploring. His touch is gentle at first but she can also feel the needle-sharp claws at the tips of his fingers, a constant threat of pain amid the pleasure.

            She smiles. Now she doesn’t have to worry about keeping a poker face.

            He unbuttons her jeans and pushes them down just far enough to give himself access to what he wants. With a wet, sticky sound, his disturbing penis slithers down under her butt and teases at the entrance of her vagina. Her breath catches at that. So does his. His penis slides back and forth, slicking her entire area until it’s dripping with slime.

            One of his hands slips down to her crotch and the other squeezes her breasts, pinching her nipples and drawing little gasps from her. The tip of his penis is fiddling with her clitoris. His other hand is squeezing her inner thighs. With nowhere else to put them, she moves her own hands to his hips and takes hold of the strange ridges at the top of his legs. They make pretty useful handles, all told.

            “From my first moment of conscious thought I knew you would be mine someday. And I was right.”

            “Shut up,” she mutters. “Don’t wreck this by talking. Just be quiet and do what you’re gonna do.”

            To his credit, he shuts right up. The tip of his penis wriggles a couple inches inside her and she shudders. It goes no further, twisting this way and that until she begins to squirm.

            “Come on. What are you waiting for?”

            It slides all the way back out and tickles her entrance. Cell chuckles and pinches her breasts.

            “Will you get over yourself and fuck me already?”

            Breathing so heavily he almost sounds human, Cell obliges her. He shoves his penis as far in as it will go. Eighteen bites her tongue to keep from gasping. He lets out a long, deflating sigh, and begins to thrust.

            This is different. It’s been such a long, long time since she’s been intimate with anyone who wasn’t Krillin. As if this even counts as intimacy. It doesn’t, really. It’s a one time thing. A fluke. A means to an end.

            Still, she would be lying if she said it didn’t feel pretty great. He’s unnaturally thick but also still soft and pliable. It’s more pleasant than she expected. Not as overwhelming or as frightening as it could be. It’s really more like a powerful massage than a hardcore fucking. Eighteen suspects that Cell thinks he’s much better at this than he actually is.

            The moment she thinks that, however, his penis begins to harden, and his pace begins to quicken, and the experience quickly shifts from simply pleasant to intense. Before long she’s whimpering through gritted teeth as he pounds into her. Over the crude sounds of fucking she can hear Cell panting and grunting. It’s the most human he’s sounded yet.

            Eighteen is losing herself in the sensations. Against all expectations she’s enjoying getting fucked by this monster. Cell moves his hands to her pelvis and takes a firm hold of her hips, digging his thumbs into her buttocks. He picks up the pace again and Eighteen sees stars.

            After what feels like an eternity of the most overpowering sex of Eighteen’s life, Cell doubles over with a strangled yell and spills himself inside her. His fingers have left raw scratches on her hips. She feels stretched to her limit, and now that the mid-coitus adrenaline is draining away it’s more unpleasant than it is erogenous.

            “Now I really know you,” he says into her neck, his voice bright with triumph.

            She knows him, too. She knows he thinks that he’s won. That he doesn’t have to be on his guard now. He’s wrong. His body is bent at what must be an uncomfortable angle to keep his penis inside her and his mouth resting on the nape of her neck.

            “You know how I don’t want to look at you?” she whispers, reaching up to stroke his cheeks with her fingers. “I don’t want you to look at me either.”

            Before he can react she plunges her thumbs deep into his eye sockets, pulverizing the soft tissue and scraping her nails against his skull. Blood and vitreous humor spurt out around her fingers. She can feel the inside of his forehead. He shrieks and recoils, howling in agony as he rockets out of and away from her.

            He’s still clawing at his face and swearing incoherently when she hikes her jeans back up and flies away at top speed, this time remembering to suppress her ki. She really didn’t want to start shit, but he was asking for it. Good luck finding her without eyes.

            “Well, what do you know?” she says to herself. “I’m satisfied.”

            She laughs. From far away, Cell is still crying out in pain.

**Author's Note:**

> I couldn't just let him get completely away with it. ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)


End file.
